


Unrequited

by Jinxin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxin/pseuds/Jinxin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t a hero or a god, he was just awkward, skinny Lance, wishing he’d never heard Keith say ‘I fucking love you.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They’d won. The natives had lost hope decades ago but after months of organizing and skirmishing and inspiring, they’d fought with Voltron in a massive battle against some number of Galra fleets that Lance couldn’t remember because there was adrenaline running hot through his blood and exhaustion already tearing at his mind. It was the largest battle they’d ever won against the Galra empire and just in this moment, Lance felt a little bit invincible. This miserable, freezing planet, infested with Galra, was finally free of its long-time oppressors because they’d fucking won.

When he climbed out of his lion into the throng of cheering and hollering natives he didn’t think twice about running to Keith, who was openly smiling at locals. Lance knocked him to the ground in a flurry of ‘we fucking did it’ and ‘we’re fucking awesome,’ ignoring the celebrating crowd that surrounded them.

And Keith was actually laughing, staring up at Lance with pupils blown wide for a fraction of a second before Lance felt a hand at the back of his neck that roughly tugged him down into a frantic kiss. 

Lance was drunk on victory and the feeling that, against all odds, Voltron could actually make a difference. All the lines and legends about Voltron saving the universe weren’t just stories told to children in order to ease the burden of Galra’s tyranny—they could be heroes. 

He kissed Keith back, hands fisting in the fabric of his suit. Their teeth clacked together painfully and it wasn’t anything like the shy kisses behind his family’s diner that Lance had exchanged with his ex-girlfriend on earth. The girlfriend whose name he couldn’t remember because Keith made that soft moment that Lance had held onto for years seem unimportant. 

Keith pulled back and Lance was drawn to the pretty redness of his lips, almost able to ignore the words passing through them. 

But he’d caught those husky words that made his throat close and brought him crashing back down to reality. He wasn’t a hero or a god, he was just awkward, skinny Lance, wishing he’d never heard Keith say ‘I fucking love you.’

 

Keith knew he wasn’t always reasonable. His suspension—which the others termed ‘attitude problems’—had been justified. He tried to be calm and logical and thoughtful like Shiro; he’d even carved out time in his busy training schedule to meditate. He spent an hour each day at least doing the breathing exercises that Allura had taught him. He needed to be able to keep a cool head. If he couldn’t, he put himself and the rest of Voltron at risk. 

He liked to think he was getting better. Lance didn’t get on his nerves as much and he was able to think his way through a problem rather than relying on raw instinct and skill. Shiro himself had said that Keith was really improving. 

None of them expected that Keith would explode worse than they’d ever seen in the aftermath of what should have been a happy victory. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Lance, coward that he was, scrambled away from Keith, eyes darting around wildly as he strove not to meet Keith’s heated glare. 

“I just said,” Lance murmured shakily, “I think we’re a little over-excited right now and we—

“Over-excited,” Keith repeated. “Do you really think I told you I loved you because I’m fucking hyped up on adrenaline or some shit? Are you fucking kidding me, Lance?” 

Lance physically winced and Keith saw red. “Is that hard for you to hear? Do you really hate me so fucking much that you can’t even look at me?”  
“I don’t hate you,” Lance hissed under his breath. He continued to glance around warily and Keith realized it wasn’t just about avoiding his own gaze—Lance was checking to see who was watching. The knowledge that Lance was embarrassed to have an audience for this particular fight made Keith even more furious. “I just,” and Lance had the gall to sigh, “I don’t feel the same, sorry.”

“You kissed me back. You—

“I made a mistake!” Lance yelled.

Keith was going to punch him. He couldn’t remember the last time he hit Lance seriously but his fist was flying towards Lance’s face when Shiro caught him by the arm. Even after all his training, Shiro with his mechanical arm could easily overpower him. 

Shiro’s grip held painfully firm as Lance slowly stood up, nodded once at their leader, and slunk off. No more words for Keith, not even a glance. Clearly Shiro hadn’t heard the bulk of their argument or he would have let Keith punch the fucker. 

Keith followed Lance’s figure through the crowd until it disappeared from sight and only then did he notice that Shiro had been talking to him the whole time. 

“—expect this from you.” Shiro sounded disappointed and normally his fatherly tone would have made Keith feel ashamed, but he couldn’t find it in him today. 

Keith yanked his arm away with his last shreds of anger, now giving way to exhaustion. “I just told Lance I loved him.”

Shiro gaped and flushed. “I didn’t—I, uh, I didn’t know you two were in that kind of a relationship.”

“We’re not.”

The full meaning of the situation seemed to hit Shiro. His face fell and he looked sincerely remorseful. “Keith I’m so sorry.”

Under the weight of Shiro’s pitying gaze, Keith felt himself lose what little hold he had on his emotions. Tears stung his eyes and he didn’t resist when Shiro reached out to hug him. 

They’d freed a whole planet from the Galra empire and it was still one of the shittiest days of Keith’s life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally uploaded as part of a series but it seemed kinda pointless to do that I guess because it's a continuation. Sorry for mix-up. Set a few weeks/months after previous chapter.

The night plows on past one and they’ve been sitting at a strange bar on another foreign planet since eight. Yeah, it’s kind of depressing and yeah it’s a waste of their time but everything went to shit the second they landed and they're fucking tired. 

It’s the first time in a long time that they almost like each other. 

Lance is a lightweight, tripping on his feet as the room spins around him. He hates alcohol but he’s making an exception because he doesn’t want to remember tonight. Following what must be the natural order of the world, Keith outdrinks Lance with ease, but Lance is too tired to start a war with the only person willing to carry him home—it doesn’t matter an hour later because Keith's blitzed out of his mind too.

“You’re wearing mascara,” Lance announces, lifting a finger to jerkily trace his lashes. Either Keith trusts him for some stupid reason or he’s partial to eyepatches. 

“And eyeliner,” Keith adds. The nail on Lance's index finger wanders too close to Keith's cornea and he swats it away. 

“I like it. It’s sexy. Do you do it because it’s sexy?” 

Keith laughs too hard and says, “no shit.” He’s drinking something clear and strong and Lance's drink is blue. Lance lost his sense of time but he knows he’s been staring too long when Keith asks, “is it that interesting? I’ve seen you in makeup before.”

“Well…yeah, but that’s mostly to get you to look at me.” 

Keith starts. “You said you hate it when I look at you.”

“I do,” Lance insists, “I feel like you can see through my clothes.”

“I’ve seen you naked before,” Keith points out.

“That’s a really bad excuse.”

“…is it?”

Lance ignores him and rests his face against the sticky bar counter. A few hours ago he’d pulled his sleeves down over his hands for hygiene's sake but now the wood is cool on his cheek and a happy sigh pushes past his lips. 

“Do you think we’ll be in trouble?” Lance asks, eyes fluttering. He might pass out here. He almost died here. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired.

“With who?” Keith asks, but says “probably” quicker than Lance can answer.

He answers anyway. “Shiro.”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t think Shiro really cares what we do.”

“Liar.” Lance jabs his finger into Keith's kidney or tries to at least. He’s tracing Keith's ribs through his shirt a few seconds later and doesn’t know why Keith lets him. 

“Okay— _I_ don’t really care how Shiro feels about what we do,” Keith rephrases. And that’s not really true either but Lance is learning to pick his battles and he’s got a sparkling record in this shitty bar that’s going to keep sparkling for the rest of the night. He hopes it will anyway, but he knows better than to make drunk promises.

“Well I do. Your bones are really fucked up, you know that?”

“That’s muscle, not bone.”

“What?” Lance makes to pull up his shirt but Keith edges away from his fingers. Lance sticks his tongue out and turns to cool his other cheek. “I’ve seen you naked before too, asshole.”

“I’m not drunk enough to let you undress me in public.”

That’s a shock. “Really? How much much drunker do you need to be—actually how much drunker can you be?” 

“I will never be drunk enough to let you undress me in public.”

Lance turns back again because Keith's giving out smiles too easily and he doesn’t want to miss out. “Do you still like me?” he asks bluntly. He hadn’t planned on asking but the words bubbled up inside of him and he didn’t have the good sense to push them back down.

Keith is watching him with dark eyes and that nagging, wordless connection between the two of them--Allura explained it once, Lance thinks, but all he remembers is the feel of someone else's thoughts in his head--is useless when they're this far gone. It’s a kaleidoscope of color and emotion that neither of them have the capacity to interpret. “Probably.”

The blasé response gets under his skin because it’s two in the morning and he doesn’t know what the fuck that means. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means what it means.” Keith isn’t smiling now. He knocks back the rest of his drink and waves the bartender over to pour him another. Lance's glass is still mostly full and he weighs the desire to forget this conversation against his growing urge to vomit. 

Lance downs his drink and groans as his stomach churns miserably. 

“Why do you like me anyway?” 

Keith doesn’t respond for a few seconds and Lance realizes his eyes are closed. “Are you asleep?” he whispers loudly. 

One eye cracks open. “No,” Keith grumbles, “stop asking stupid questions.”

“Why do you like me?” Lance asks again.

“I don’t know.”

Lance opens his mouth to tell him ‘I don’t know’ is a pretty shitty answer but Keith's talking again before he can.

“Why don’t you like me?” Keith asks and Lance doesn’t know what to say anymore.

Because he doesn’t hate Keith—hasn’t for a long time, but it’s hard to be friends with someone who reinforces every insecurity Lance pretends he doesn't have. It's hard to be friends with someone who makes him so jealous his teeth hurt and what's worse is he knows Keith's never meant to make him feel small, but he does. He's small and unskilled and uninteresting and all the things he tried so hard not to be. Keith's very existence makes Lance's worthless. And how is Lance supposed call someone like that his friend? 

How could he ever love someone like that?

He can’t--he doesn't have the ego for it; and the truth is that Keith deserves better—a better partner, a better friend, a better lover—but he’s stuck on Lance. 

In the end, Lance settles for ‘I don’t know’ too. It's lazy and it's none of the things Lance should say but he doesn't really care right now. Neither of them will be satisfied, but it’s the best they can do for tonight.


End file.
